The Dead Are Always Astonished

The dead are always astonished.


The Dead are always astonished

by the dying itself, how it comes

subtle like the scent of rain before


the first drops that fall unnoticed,

except for the small circles on pavement,

and surprised by the weight of it all,


a thing never consider in the morning

hours just before, and how it is lighter

than air; not what was expected at all


with an overwhelming ache to laugh.

How strange now the living are

to the Dead, with all their longing and


weight.  So the Dead avoid the living,

and gather in large open spaces with

all the other Dead and dance elaborate


dances and laugh or lounge in trees

taking time to read the books the wanted

to or write letters they should’ve written


long ago.  And the Dead are astonished

by everything around them and the Dead
are constantly in awe.  Maybe that’s why


the Dead never attend their own funerals,  

but look on, sending their love from a distance

as if afraid of catching something like a cold


or something far worse.



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